Inbetween the Memories
by Sadie Elfgirl
Summary: Gap filler for season 3, episode 19:Memoria.  What happened after Lex found Clark in the tank of Kryptonite at Summerholt?


**Well this is a bit of a departure from the norm. My first story ever that is not LOTR. I always wanted to branch out a bit. :) This fanfic is much more of a joint effort than my previous stories. The storyline was completely conceived by my wondrous sister-beta. I just filled in the details. She also, of course, beta-ed the fic, so hurray for Deep Sorrow! **

**This story takes place in the third season of Smallville, 19th episode, Memoria. After Lex comes and finds Clark in Summerholt the episode jumped to Clark being in his barn, and my sibling felt that there should be a little something more to fill in that gap.**

**Anyhoo****, nice to see everyone again, hope you all enjoy the fic, and let me know what you think.** **Reviews are lovely, lovely things.**

**0-0-0-0**

Lex stared in shock at the lab. It was chaos. Complete and utter chaos. Sparks flew from the ruined machinery as the billionaire slowly propelled himself forward, eyes flickering to the left and right. What the hell happened?

Dr. Garner lay on the floor by his console; the same console he had stood by every time he dunked Lex in the glowing green liquid of the meteor rocks. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead. Lex quickly crouched beside him and pressed long fingers to the man's neck. He could feel a pulse. Faint, but there. He would live. Hopefully, he would be able to relate exactly what Lionel had been so interested in keeping a secret from his son.

Lex straightened and allowed his eyes to roam the room once more. The hanging wire sprayed bright sparks as he moved forward. Lex flinched as a few bit into unprotected skin, but shielded his face with an arm and continued on. There was something dark in the glowing green ooze of the tank. Lex quickened his step ever so slightly. He had a horribly uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. The equipment had been in use when everything had gone to hell in the proverbial hand basket. If Garner had been using the machine and something had gone wrong, then who had been their subject this time? Who did Lex know who had the habit of showing up in the most unexpected places at the worst possible times…?

Swallowing the sour bile of fear that was rising in the back of his throat, the young billionaire pulled himself up on the side of the tank and peered over the edge. The platform used to lower a person into the meteor rock ooze had snapped several of its cables, allowing one side to slant farther into the glowing liquid.

As he had feared, there was someone submerged in the ooze, slowly drowning in the green sludge of the meteor rocks.

Lex almost choked.

It was Clark. Clark was lying on the platform, his bare skin submerged in the green goo. His mouth and nose were underneath the surface. He was dying…

With fevered haste Lex jumped down and grabbed the first thing his hand found; a length of pipe. Fear-spiked adrenaline gave him extra strength as he swung with all his might. The tank's glass side shattered under impact and the meteor rock solution gushed out, almost knocking the billionaire on his well-tailored rear end. He struggled to keep his balance for a moment, trying to push forward and keep from being swept off his feet at the same time. Lex caught hold of the tank to steady himself. Shattered glass cut into his hands, but he ignored the sting, his attention totally focused on the young man in front of him. "Clark!" Had he been too late? Clark didn't look like he was breathing.

He had to be alive. He had to be!

Was it the flickering light of the lab, or was Clark really_ that_ deathly pale? Drops of glowing liquid gleamed on his skin and in his hair, and Lex realized with a horrible jolt that he had seen healthier looking corpses.

The young man's head flopped toward the sound of Lex's voice. Blue eyes flickered open and Lex gasped in relief, unaware that he had been holding his breath. Clark looked absolutely awful, but he was alive.

"Lex, help me."

His voice was barely a whisper. Lex could hardly hear it over the snapping and sparking of the trashed lab.

"I'm going to get you out of here," he promised. How exactly he was going to do that was a mystery to him. Clark was about six inches taller than he was, heavy, and he didn't look like he would be able to support his own weight.

Yanking off his coat, Lex wrapped it around his fist and focused on smashing the rest of the glass out of the tank's frame. If he had to drag Clark through that opening, he didn't want to cut him. He got as much as he could out, then spread the coat on the bottom edge. Hopefully that would be enough to protect Clark from further injury.

"Come on, Clark," Lex reached through the tank's side, slid his hands under Clark's shoulders and grasped him under the armpits. This had to be the world's worst angle for what he was trying to do. Lex briefly toyed with the idea of getting up into the tank himself, but discarded it. He _might_ be able to lift Clark's mass onto his shoulders, but there was no way he could carry the teenager and climb down at the same time. He would end up dropping Clark onto the broken glass strewn floor.

It was hard to find purchase on Clark's slick skin. He wasn't helping much either. Lex pulled, trying to be as gentle as possible while still exerting enough force to lift his friend. "Clark," he grunted as the farm boy moved fractionally closer. "Clark, I need you to help me out." _And stay awake. And give some indication that you're actually okay and not near death._

The eyes flickered again and Lex felt the answering tension in Clark's shoulders as his friend tried to raise himself. The tall teenager half rolled onto his side, allowing Lex to get a better grip. Clark caught hold of Lex's shoulder, helping the billionaire as much as he could.

Lex kept pulling, taking the weight of Clark's upper body on his own shoulders. Clark clumsily slung an arm around his friend's neck as Lex stepped backwards and shifted his grip to the teenager's waist in an effort to keep Clark's bare legs from dragging across the glass encrusted edge of the tank.

Panicky fear was rising in Lex's chest. Clark felt so weak. His grip, normally strong and firm, was feeble. Lex could barely feel the fingers closing as Clark tried to steady himself by catching hold of Lex's shirt. Bare feet finally touched the floor. Lex winced as he saw trickles of red. Despite his best efforts, Clark had some scrapes. The teenager tried to support himself on his own legs, but only for about two seconds. His knees buckled and Lex grunted as he tightened his grip and caught Clark's full weight. The arm that was around his neck began to slither off but Lex swiftly seized the wrist, keeping Clark semi-draped over his shoulder. The tension of supporting dead weight pulled at the muscles in Lex's neck and back, straining them. "Clark," he gasped again. Even though he was in excellent shape, he couldn't keep this up for very long. "Come on, Clark." _Please, please, please. Keep moving. Keep being alive._

Clark's head lolled against the billionaire's shoulder, but his eyes were open, and Lex could see a growing consciousness in their depths. He took some of his weight back on his feet. Not all of it. He was still leaning heavily on Lex, but this was manageable.

Their progress was achingly slow, but they navigated the wreckage of the lab together. Lex steered his friend clear of the sparking machinery and broken glass to the best of his abilities, but could see a wince flicker across Clark's face every once in a while.

Fear was starting to recede. Clark was looking more and more aware. Anger, cold and implacable was rushing in. Rage was throttling his senses. His father had something to do with this. He _knew_ it. And the whole clinic had just gone along with it. They had _hurt his friend_. A haze of red was starting to obscure his vision.

Lex edged the door open with his foot, thankful that he hadn't latched it on his way in. He and Clark entered the sterile looking antechamber. Lex had been here many times before. Every time before he was lowered into the meteor rock solution he had visited this room to divest his clothing and store it in the lockers.

Lex swiftly lowered Clark onto the bench in the middle of the room and began to search the lockers. Surely they would have put his clothes somewhere in here, right? He could hardly haul his friend half-naked through the clinic.

But his search was fruitless. Lex slammed the last locker closed in frustration. His gaze fell on the trash can and a piece of red cloth sticking out of the top. Lex snatched at it, hopeful. His hopes were dashed in a moment. It was Clark's shirt alright, but it was no longer in one piece. A strange churning of his stomach started to take place. Slowly, Lex pushed aside the red scraps that were all that was left of the shirt. Beneath them were the remains of a pair of jeans, also cut to pieces and a belt.

Rage rose once again. They had cut his clothes off. Lex swore under his breath and resisted the urge to kick the trash can with great difficulty.

The door leading to the hallway swung open and Lex straightened immediately, prepared to fight.

0-0-0-0

Clark sank thankfully onto the bench with a groan. Pain. He was in pain. A soak in kryptonite was _not_ doing wonders for him, oddly enough. He was feeling a little better now that Lex had pulled him out. Slowly. Slowly feeling better. The burning sensation remained. The feeling of being engulfed in radioactive poison. The sensation of fire running down his throat and into his nose, drowning him…drowning in fire…

Lex was searching through the lockers, and if Clark had the strength to speak he would have told him not to waste his time. They had cut his clothes off of him. The young man shuddered, remembering the horrible feeling of helplessness. He was completely incapacitated by the proximity of so much kryptonite.

Clark watched through dull eyes as Lex discovered the remains of the shirt and jeans. His face looked murderous. His lips moved like he was swearing, but Clark couldn't hear him. All of his abilities were suppressed by his little dip.

The door suddenly opened and Clark felt a surge of fear. He couldn't defend himself or help Lex. What if it was someone who wanted to hurt them? Someone who was determined to continue the experiment? Did they have another lab that they would take him to? Another tank full of fiery, green, painful death? Another trip down hell's main avenue? Lex saw the door; he was prepared to fight, but what if he was killed? Clark had to help him…had to… He tried to push himself into an upright sitting position, struggling against his own weakness.

An orderly entered looking alarmed, but his attention was obviously not preoccupied with visions of escaping subjects. A fire extinguisher dangled from one hand. His intent was to continue on to the lab, but Lex stepped into this path.

0-0-0-0

Lex quickly took in the man's scrubs and harried expression. Blue eyes flickered over the name tag. Lex could see the man's face change as he caught sight of Clark. Eyes widening, jaw dropping…before his cognitive process reached the point of calling someone else for help in recapturing Clark, Lex stepped in and derailed his train of thought.

"Good, you're here. I need you to get me a blanket, a pair of scrubs," his eyes flickered back to Clark and realized with a jolt that the teenager was bleeding from several shallow wounds on his shoulders. He must have gotten cut when Lex pulled him from the tank. "and a first aid kit."

"I…sir, I don't think…" The man obviously knew who Lex was, but he also knew that the experiments that went on were not always voluntary.

"I didn't ask you to think," Lex snapped, his rage making the words cold and clipped. "I told you to help me, or you can be sure I will mention _to the police_ how much you assisted in the kidnapping of and experimentation on an unwilling minor, _Kelly Webster_."

The orderly winced and twitched, as though he was going to cover the name tag. Far too late for that. "Yes sir," he mumbled. "Right away, Mr. Luthor."

He was back within moments, carrying the items that Lex had ordered him to retrieve. Lex turned to Clark, aware that the orderly was beating a hasty retreat. He let the man go, making a mental note to destroy his life at a later date. Small recompense compared to the vengeance he longed to wreak on Clark's tormentors. Lex's jaw tightened as he remembered running into his father. Lionel had _known_ Clark was here. Hell, he had probably _ordered_ the procedure to be run on the teenager. _Son of a…_

With a conscious effort, Lex pushed the events of the day to the back of his mind. Time enough to brood and plot revenge later. Right now, Clark needed help.

The farm boy was trying to push himself up into a sitting position with some success. Lex was relieved to see that Clark seemed to be rallying. He never could have forgiven himself if something had really harmed his friend. Especially when Clark was almost certainly here because of him. In point of fact, Clark had probably been trying to _save_ him.

"Easy," Lex cautioned, stilling his friend's motion. Quickly, he opened the first aid kit. "You've got some cuts, Clark. Let me get them bandaged and then we'll get out of here."

The dark head nodded weakly, but Lex was pleased to see that the eyes had a more lucid, steady gaze.

The young billionaire swabbed the cuts quickly with antiseptic and pressed gauze over them. They weren't bleeding badly. "Here," Lex handed Clark the scrubs to slip on over his red shorts. To his satisfaction, the teenager was able to don them without help, though he did wince as he pulled the shirt on over his injured shoulders. Lex wrapped the blanket around Clark's shoulders and helped him to his feet. Clark was still leaning on him, but supporting much more of his own weight. "Come on, Clark. I'm gonna get you to a hospital. We'll call your parents on the way…"

"No!" Clark responded for the first time since Lex pulled him out of the tank. "No hospital. I just wanna go home, Lex."

As relieved as he was to hear Clark speaking normally, Lex was not convinced. "Clark you've got some injuries. I don't know what they did to you, but it nearly wiped you out, _and_ you almost drowned. You need medical attention."

"Lex, please." The blue eyes were wide and slightly fearful. "Take me home."

The young man surveyed his friend closely. Clark looked awful, it was true, but he _did_ look much better than he had about ten minutes ago. He seemed to be recovering quickly, and the cuts he had received were superficial. "Fine," Lex grumbled finally as he and Clark proceeded out of the anteroom and down the hallway. "I'll take you home, but I'm going to persuade your mother to get you checked out." He might even call Mrs. Kent on the way home and try to convince her to let him take Clark straight to the emergency room.  
Clinic personal swirled around the two friends in a semi-panicked state as emergency workers started to arrive. Lex thanked his lucky stars he had gone to investigate. He knew Clark would much rather have been found by him in that vulnerable state than by any stranger. Plus the confusion allowed them to move on unnoticed. They made it through the clinic doors and to Lex's car unchallenged. Clark was moving more strongly now, his eyes focused and intent.

Lex quickly opened the door to his Porsche and helped Clark lower his bulk into the passenger seat. The billionaire straightened with a groan. Oh he was going to have some _extremely_ sore muscles tomorrow. What were the Kent's feeding Clark?

As his head cleared the roof of his car, Lex froze. The temperature of his eyes dropped to a subzero level and his molars ground together hard enough to chip enamel.

Lionel was standing at the door of the clinic, his gaze fixed on the young man Lex had just helped into his car. His dark eyes reminded Lex of something. A shark perhaps, scenting warm blood in the water.

Maybe the epitome of evil, black and soulless.

Something primal stirred in his soul. He experienced a moment of intense longing to sprint across the stretch of asphalt that separated him from his father and strangle the life from him. Deprive him of breath, just as Clark had almost died, his air cut off….drowning…in pain…

A deep, shuddering breath brought the urge under control.

He didn't have time for this. He needed to get Clark home. Lex strode around the front of his car. He grabbed the handle and pulled the driver side door open, preparing to jump in. In his mind, he was already breaking several too-conservative speed limits on his way back to Smallville.

A strong grip caught his shoulder. Lex nearly jumped out of his skin in shock and whirled, breaking the contact.

He stared, jaw dropping in surprise at seeing his father.

Lionel's eyes were inscrutable. His countenance just the right amount of mixed concern and innocence. "Is something wrong, son?"

Something black, violent and ugly exploded deep within him. He didn't know what monster twisted his facial features but was distantly aware that his father had just taken a step back. He would kill him. Kill him for hurting Clark. For having the _audacity_ to come over here and pretend he knew nothing of what had just happened!

"Lex…"

The hoarse whisper from the inside of the car broke through Lex's murderous haze. He glanced back over his shoulder. Clark was leaning forward, eyebrows knotting in concern. The blanket was clutched tightly around his shoulders, hair still wet from the meteor rock goo. He looked like death warmed over.

And he needed Lex right now.

The muscles in Lex's jaw tightened. He turned back to his father. The violent rage was dispelled, but the cold, hard, implacable rage remained. He would deal with Lionel. He _would_. For Clark's sake and his own.

But not now.

Lex jabbed a finger into Lionel's chest like a javelin. "I don't have time for you right now," he ground out between teeth that refused to unclench. Ignoring the sardonic raised eyebrows of his parent, Lex turned his back on Lionel and lowered himself into the Porsche. Even as he slammed the door shut, his right hand was jamming the keys into the ignition. The engine roared, the tires peeled, and the Porsche jumped forwards with a squeal of protesting rubber. As he drove away, Lex kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead of him. If he looked back and saw Lionel in the mirrors, he might be tempted to return and mow him down with the sports car.

Silence reigned in the small space as Lex wove in and out of traffic with the speed and reflexes of a Nascar driver. Once they reached the expressway, the billionaire chanced a sideways glance at his friend. Clark was leaning against the car door, eyes half closed. There was a very unhealthy looking grey tinge under his normal tan color. Lex felt a twinge of unease. This was ridiculous. He would call Mrs. Kent now and get permission to take Clark to the hospital. His left hand kept a grip on the wheel as his right automatically reached for his left, inner jacket pocket.

The jacket pocket that wasn't there anymore because it was currently lying on a shattered tank back in the Summerholt lab. Along with his phone.

Lex swore softly.

"Something wrong?" Clark lifted his head and turned toward Lex curiously.

"I left my jacket back at the clinic. It had my phone in the pocket." _Dammitdammitdammit._

Clark's dark eyebrows twitched as though he would have drawn them together in suspicion if it didn't take so much energy. "Who were you going to call?"

"You mother," Lex snapped, unwilling to play the game of concealment at this particular juncture. He was too worried and too stressed about his friend to have his motives questioned. "I didn't think it would make for the best social call ever if I stepped in and dropped your half-dead body on the front steps without a word of warning. 'Hi, Mrs. Kent. Don't worry, your son is fine. He was just being unlawfully experimented on by a scientist you have good reason to suspect of terrible motives. Tea? I would love some! Would you mind following that up with a heaping side of _what the hell_?'"

Clark chuckled weakly. Lex felt the tension swirling in his temples dissipate slightly. It had been a long time since he had been able to make Clark laugh. Their relationship had been strained recently, to say the least. Keeping one hand on the wheel, Lex massaged the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve the stress headache he could feel coming on. Clark was his friend. His best friend. Someone who stood beside him when no one else would.

So _why_ did he feel the need to pick and peck and pursue every question that came into the light? There were a lot of them. Starting with the car wreck that introduced them, and continuing on through their friendship. Clark was either the biggest magnet for strange phenomenon in the northern hemisphere, or he was the _cause_.

Lex drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in irritation. Why did he have to know everything? He had always been like this; always wanting to know the 'why' to every event under the sun. To be friends with Clark, one had to be either very fond of mystery, or be willing to accept that there would be no answers.

Something in Lex rebelled at the very notion.

0-0-0-0

Clark shifted uneasily in the passenger seat of Lex's Porsche. Something was not right. His skin was burning, like he was still in contact with kryptonite. He had felt better when Lex had pulled him out of the tank, but now he could feel himself gradually growing weaker. What was going on? He had inhaled some of the ooze when the platform had fallen...he could feel his throat burning from the contact. Was it still there? But then why was his skin stinging? Clark pushed a trembling hand through his hair. It was almost dry. Green powder floated in front of his eyes and Clark jerked his hand back, staring in horror at the glittering residue that now coated his fingers.

The solution was drying on him. He was still covered in kryptonite. And there was nothing he could do about it without Lex discovering more of his secret.

"Clark," Lex's eyes were focused on the road ahead, and so missed his friend's horrified face. "What were you doing in Summerholt?"

"Looking for you," Clark stammered automatically. His lips felt clumsy and numb. Little bright lights were starting to pop in his field of vision. _That is so very rarely a good sign…_

Lex shot him a sideways glance, eyebrow raised somewhat skeptically. " That's not exactly what I meant."

He was going to ask why Clark had been in the tank. The teen had to think of something quick. Deep inside he wished that he didn't have to. He wished more than anything that he didn't have to lie to his friend. "I didn't just go for a swim, Lex. They forced me into that tank."

"Why?"

He hadn't _quite_ expected Lex to ask that straightforwardly. "I…I dunno." He better play stupid to save himself. "I saw your dad, and then everything got fuzzy…next thing I knew I was being lowered into the k...meteor rock." He must be losing it faster than he thought. The word 'kryptonite' had almost tripped off his tongue.

"They drugged you?" A muscle in Lex's jaw was tensing.

Might as well go with it. Nothing else made sense. "I think so." He supposed it _could_ be called that, though it was closer to being poisoned. Ongoing poison…covering him…stealing his life…

Small black spots were starting to dance around the unnatural brightness in his vision. It was getting harder to think. Harder to form words and sentences that would make sense to Lex. A glimmer of an idea sparked at the back of his mind and he seized on it eagerly.

"I still feel pretty groggy." _That_ at least was God's honest truth. "If you don't mind, I think I'm gonna sleep till we get back to Smallville."

Another sidelong glance. Clark was struggling manfully to hold onto his senses and appear normal. Or at least something that passed for normal. Semi-normal. Normal enough so that when he went to 'sleep', he wouldn't wake up in the emergency room.

"I don't mind at all."

Clark thought he could hear something withdrawn in Lex's tone, but he was too close to passing out to think about it very much longer. As he leaned against the window and allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness, he desperately hoped that he wouldn't worsen too much between now and getting home…

0-0-0-0

Martha Kent stepped back from the table and cocked her head to one side, examining the bouquet of flowers she was arranging. Satisfied with the result, she lifted the vase and set it on the windowsill above the sink, humming softly to herself. These moments at home when both her men were gone were special times. Times to think, to plan, to try not to worry about both of them. They were both so convinced that they were invulnerable. They weren't. Clark more so than Jonathon, but her son could be hurt too. Even when everything was working perfectly, and he was completely healthy, her son wasn't free from emotional harm. She sighed softly, fingering a leaf. His continued obsession with Lana had injured him over and over. She wished that he would redirect his attentions. As nice as Lana _could_ be, she was trouble for Clark, and there were other girls who would suit him much better. Chloe, maybe.

A tap at the door brought her head up in surprise. She wasn't expecting visitors…

0-0-0-0

Lex rapped on the door again. Looking back over his shoulder, the billionaire could feel his eyebrows drawing together in concern. Clark was still asleep, his head resting against the glass. He hadn't woken up on the drive back from Metropolis. Instead of rousing him, Lex had decided that this would be a good time to explain to Mrs. Kent what had happened. At least that way she would be more prepared for the sight of her very groggy, semi-injured son.

Lex drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders, drawing together the somewhat frayed cloak of his charm. He could hear Mrs. Kent's footsteps. The door opened and Lex forced his mouth to curl into his most disarming smile.

The small redhead smiled back in a bemused fashion. "Lex?"

"Mrs. Kent." Lex raised his hands in a calming gesture, palms up. "Now there's nothing to be concerned about…"

He was interrupted midsentence as Martha's eyes widened in horror and a gasp burst from her lips. He froze, completely thrown off track.

"Lex, your hands!" Martha threw open the screen door and caught hold of him, her own hands callused, but incredibly gentle.

His mouth opened and closed, somewhat like a dying fish. Blue eyes darted down to his palms.

They were lacerated and bloodstained. _Crap. So much for breaking the news gently and with no alarm._ The young billionaire winced as he remembered the broken glass on the edge of the tank and the sharp sting as it cut through his skin. In his worry over Clark, he had completely forgotten his own wounds.

As if punishing him for his negligence, they throbbed sharply. _Three freaking hours drive back from Metropolis and you hurt _now_?_

"What happened?" Martha was looking up at him, eyes wide.

"There was…an incident," Lex said as smoothly as possible. "At the Summerholt clinic."

0-0-0-0

The moment those words left his mouth, Martha stopped paying complete attention. Lex wouldn't have come here for himself. Something else had happened at the clinic, and it must have involved Clark. Her eyes flickered past Lex to his Porsche. Her heart lurched slightly as she saw her son's dark head leaning against the passenger side window.

"…must've drugged him with something, but Clark doesn't know what. It made him very groggy. He slept all the way home."

Martha jerked her eyes back to Lex. "Drugged?" Nothing could drug Clark. Nothing could hurt Clark except the meteor rocks.

"Yes." Lex sighed. "I saw my father there. He acted as though he had no knowledge that Clark was in the clinic, but I can't imagine any reason for Clark being put through the procedure other than my father's insistence." He ground his teeth together. "I probably won't be able to prove it. But I promise you that I will make sure the doctors responsible for this are brought up on charges."

Martha swallowed hard. "Lex…what was involved in this, 'procedure'?"

Lex was silent for a moment, obviously uncomfortable with the line of questioning. He went to rub the back of his neck with one hand and winced. "It was designed for the retrieval of repressed memories."

Mrs. Kent bit her tongue, trying to keep all emotion from her face. If they had accessed Clark's memories somehow...

"I went through it myself, so I know that the procedure itself is not _harmful_. I think that Clark was more incapacitated by whatever it is they gave him." Lex glanced over his shoulder swiftly, then turned his attention back to Mrs. Kent. "Usually, they lower the subject into a tank of liquidized meteor rocks, and stimulate the brain. Something went wrong, and there was an explosion in the lab…"

Martha fought hard to keep her horror from showing on her face. Kryptonite! Her son had been dipped in radioactive poison! She peered around Lex anxiously as he continued to talk. Clark appeared to be sleeping, just as Lex said.

As she fixed her eyes on Clark's dark hair, he moved. His head flopped weakly back against the car's head rest, and she could see his face. His blue eyes were rolling back in his head. Normally a healthy tan color, his face was deathly white.

Hoping fervently that Lex had finished whatever it was he was saying, Martha strode quickly across the lawn towards the Porsche. She walked as fast as she could without breaking into a flat out run; ignoring every screaming maternal instinct that told her to sprint to the car. Whatever happened, she had to keep Lex from discovering Clark's secret. He was already so suspicious. She could hear his footsteps as he followed her.

She had the door open in a second and crouched down to look into Clark's face. "Clark? Sweetheart, can you hear me?" Gentle hands stroked his dark hair back from his face. Martha swallowed hard. His skin was cold to the touch. What was happening? He always recovered so quickly once he was removed from the presence of Kryptonite. Had it finally been too much? His skin had a greenish tinge to it that couldn't be healthy.

Blue eyes cracked open. "Mom…"

Martha tried hard to smile. His voice was barely audible. "I'm here. You're going to be okay." _Please, dear God, let him be okay!_

Clark's head flopped towards her weakly. "Still…there…" he rasped in a voice that couldn't be heard by Lex. Martha barely caught the words herself.

Her eyebrows drew together. She leaned in closer to make sure she heard correctly. "What?"

"It's still…on me..."

_What on earth is he talking about?_ Still on him? The blanket was on him, as were a pair of scrubs. Was he delusional? Imagining himself back in the tank of Kryptonite goo? She ran her hand through his hair, trying to offer some comfort.

His hair was damp.

Slightly startled, Martha drew back her hand and rubbed her fingers together. They were lightly coated with sparkling green dust.

A sick swooping sensation made her feel as though a hole had opened up in her stomach. His hair…his skin…that green tinge….

Clark was coated in Kryptonite, and it was slowly killing him.

Her mind was racing, but by supreme effort of will, she managed to keep her features composed.

"Come on, sweetheart," she said as normally as she could. "Let's get you into the house." She turned to look at Lex over her shoulder. "Lex, he's leaning on the seat belt buckle and I can't get it from this angle. Would you mind?"

"No, of course not." Lex moved swiftly around the hood of the car towards the driver's door.

Martha leaned in close, as though she were pressing a kiss to her son's forehead. "When we get you out," she breathed, "lean on me."

Clark's eyes met hers as she pulled back. She saw the tiny nod and breathed a sigh of relief. He understood. If Clark leaned on Lex, the young man would not believe that Clark was okay. The teen would have to rely on his mother's strength. Martha braced herself as Lex popped the buckle. This was going to be very hard.

0-0-0-0

"Let me help you." Lex quickly came back around to the passenger side of his Porsche as Clark swung his legs out of the car and Martha pulled his right arm over her shoulders. She smiled sweetly. "Of course. Sweetie, give Lex your other arm."

0-0-0-0

Clark groaned inwardly. The world was spinning. He heard his mother's voice whispering in his ear. Lean on her. He nodded, lacking the energy to fight. However, he couldn't help but wonder was she nuts? She was half his height. How on earth did she think she was going to be able to support his weight? He could feel her pulling his arm around her shoulders. He looked up and saw Lex's face swim in front of his eyes.

Clark forced his lips to curl in a smile, hoping he looked semi-normal instead of what he felt. Which was somewhere close to semi-dear-God-please-kill-me-now. He winced. Breathing hurt. His throat burned. His skin burned. He had to get into the house. His mom couldn't help him as long as Lex was here…

Clark pushed himself up, fighting against the nausea and vertigo that swirled around him in dizzying waves. The world resembled something like the inside of a washing machine. All color and liquid swirling together in a maelstrom of chaos.

Lean on her.

Clark felt Lex take his left arm, but followed his mother's instructions and leaned his weight onto her shoulders. She was now supporting almost all of his bulk.

Step by step the strange trio inched across the farmyard. Clark stumbled slightly as they started up the stairs, but his mother's arm tightened around his waist and kept him upright. Clark stared down at the diminutive redhead in dozy awe.

His mom was a _lot_ stronger than she looked. She wouldn't be able to keep it up forever though.

0-0-0-0

Lex pulled the kitchen door open with his free hand and helped Mrs. Kent lead Clark into the living room and settle him onto the couch.

Martha remained crouched by his side for a moment before slowly straightening. Her face was flushed with exertion, and she seemed oddly short of breath. Lex frowned. Clark hadn't been leaning on _him_ overly much. Had Mrs. Kent been taking more of his weight on herself? That would be very strange…if Clark needed help, Martha Kent might be strong, but Lex had no doubt that he had the bigger share of sheer brute force.

Martha smiled her gentle smile at him. "Thank you," she said earnestly. "For bringing him home."

Lex had opened his mouth to insist that Clark go to the hospital. He wanted to question why the teenager was even at Summerholt in the first place. He planned to demand answers for once, just _once_ in his friendship with Clark.

Looking into her face, Lex felt his heart twist. He couldn't bring himself to badger her. Not her. Just as he viewed Clark as a brother, Martha Kent's sweet acceptance of him and his doings often touched a part of him that he had closed off when his mother died. Did he think something was very wrong with Clark? Yes.

Did he trust Martha Kent to look out for the best interests of her son?

Yes.

Lex sighed, and dug his hands into his pockets. "I'll come by later," he said quietly, "to see how he's doing."

"He'll appreciate that."

In about five seconds, Lex found himself ushered out the door. He stood for a moment, struggling with the frustration that mounted. So many questions. He wanted answers to all of them.

Somewhere along the line, he knew that he was going to have to decide between his friendship with Clark, and getting those answers.

Not today.

Today, he was going to accept the fact that there were no answers, and walk away. Lex looked over his shoulder at the door. Two inches of wood separating him from the only people he considered family. Someday, he would make the choice. Turning his back on the Kent's kitchen door he looked out over the farm. The sun was setting; the light turning red and orange. A deep breath inflated his lungs, then came out as a sigh.

He was worried.

When the day came, he wondered if he would make the right choice.

0-0-0-0

Martha's smile lasted until the door closed. The moment Lex was out of sight, she whirled so fast her feet almost slipped on the smooth wood. "Clark!"

Sliding to a crouch next to her son, Martha shook him. "Clark, sweetheart, you need to get up. We need to get this off you!"

Clark's eyes opened, but they were unfocused and filled with pain. He groaned and curled in on himself. The blanket he had been wearing around his shoulders slipped away as he rolled onto his side. Martha gasped. He was _bleeding_. There were bright spots of red soaking through the thin material of the scrubs. She pulled at the top urgently until it came over Clark's head. It looked like someone had dressed wounds on his shoulders. There was gauze and tape, but blood had seeped through the bandages.

Martha might have whimpered at that point. Grabbing her son's right arm she threw it over her shoulders and pulled. He was _so_ heavy! "Clark, I need you to help me! I can't get you upstairs on my own!"

"….hurts…" he groaned, face creasing in pain.

"I know," Martha gritted her teeth together as she tried to hoist him to his feet. "I know it hurts. I need you to help me, sweetie. Come on, we have to get upstairs to the shower."

Something registered in the teenager's face. She could feel him trying to put some strength into his legs. The arm lying over her shoulders tightened its grip.

By the time they reached the top of the stairs, both of them were almost on their knees, crawling forward. Clark collapsed, his body shaking as he gasped.

Sweat was dripping down Martha's neck and back. She could feel her shirt sticking to her skin with the perspiration. "Clark!"

He wasn't moving. _Oh lord, please help me!_ Grasping her son under the arms, Martha dug her heels into the floor and dragged him towards the bathroom. Inch by excruciating inch. The door was open, thank heavens. If she put him down now, she was sure that she wouldn't be able to pick him up again. With her last vestiges of strength, she wrapped her arms around his waist and lifted…not high enough. She couldn't get him over the side of the tub without him helping.

"Clark!" She gasped, almost unable to breathe.

He stirred, feebly. One leg lifted clumsily over the porcelain edge. It was enough. Martha stepped into the tub herself, dragging his torso with her. As gently, (but as quickly) as possible, she pulled his other leg in and turned on the tap. She tested the water with her fingers, then stepped out and pulled the knob, starting the shower.

Warm water pounded over Clark's inert form. Martha collapsed weakly against the side of the tub, her blue eyes watching him anxiously for any signs of improvement. The water swirling down the tub's drain was glittering green with the meteor rock dust. Martha shuddered. Her son had been literally dipped in poison. Would he be okay? Had she gotten it off of him quickly enough?

0-0-0-0

He was wet.

Clark cracked his eyes open slowly. He was lying in his bathtub, and the shower was on, pounding warm water over his body. The scrubs that he had worn out of the Summerholt clinic were still on him, or at least the pants were. They clung to his skin, soaked through. The teenager started to sit up, only to lean his head back against the tub and close his eyes as dizziness assaulted him. He felt horrible.

However, he felt _less_ horrible than he had an hour ago.

His skin wasn't burning anymore. Clark opened his eyes again. The water swirling towards the drain had some glimmering green particles in it, but the kryptonite must be almost completely gone.

"Clark?"

The dark-haired teen looked up to see his mother peering through the shower curtain. Her face was drawn and anxious, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

He forced a smile. "I'll be okay, mom."

She collapsed against the edge of the tub, covering her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to break through.

Clark drew in a deep breath and slowly sat up straight, fighting the wave of vertigo that threatened to make him black out. He glanced over his shoulder at the pieces of gauze still stuck to his back. Slowly, he peeled the blood-soaked material off. His mother saw what he was doing and moved to help, pulling the bandage off another of the scratches.

The wounds had ceased bleeding, but there was some glittering green matter caught in the gashes. Martha quickly seized a washcloth, and with an apologetic glance at her son, she began to scrub the cuts.

Clark winced, but knew that what his mother was doing was necessary. As soon as she rinsed the cuts out, his skin began to close over. Clark grinned, feeling better. His mother breathed a sigh of relief. With her help, the teen rose to his feet. Martha shut the tap off, and fetched a towel as Clark divested himself of the soaked scrub pants.

His mother remained silent as he wrapped the towel around his waist and carefully stepped over the edge of the tub. His head was still spinning a little.

The teenager made it to his room and slowly dressed. His fingers felt stiff and clumsy, and it was taking too long to fit the buttons of his flannel shirt into the tiny holes. He gave up on it in disgust at his own ineptness, tossing the plaid shirt to the side and selecting a sweatshirt instead. His jeans went on smoother, and by the time he pulled on socks, his fingers felt like they were functioning almost normally.

Clark lay back on his bed with a sigh. He drew one hand over his face and pushed it back through his hair. Still damp.

A soft sound from the hallway caught his ear. Clark smiled softly. His abilities were beginning to reassert themselves.

Sliding from his bed, he moved soundlessly towards his door and swung it open.

0-0-0-0

Martha stood in her room, the still-dripping scrub pants clutched in her hands. Tears poured down her face. She didn't allow any sobs to pass her lips, aware that Clark might hear. She had been so frightened!

As her fingers tightened on the wet material, a wave of rage crashed through her senses. How dare they. How _dare_ they hurt _her son_! He had almost died! A snarl escaped her. Red haze floated before her eyes, obscuring everything as wrath poured through her veins.

"Mom! Mom!"

Clark's hands; large and warm were holding her own, stilling them. Martha blinked once, and looked up to see her son staring down at her with a slightly frightened expression. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. Why was he looking at her like that?

Clark's blue eyes darted down to her hands, and Martha followed his line of sight.

All that was left of the scrub pants were damp strips of cloth. In her rage, she had ripped them to shreds. She could still feel it pumping through her. Mrs. Kent drew in a deep breath to calm down. She released the remaining rags with an effort and smiled at her son to reassure him. No, she had not gone crazy. _Oh, but if I had _them_ in my grasp…_

Clark wrapped his arms around her and Martha buried her face in his chest. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I just…I can't believe what they _did_. Why? Why would they _do_ something like that? Couldn't they see it was hurting you?"

"You know Mr. Luthor," Clark said softly. "He doesn't care who he hurts as long as he gets what he wants."

0-0-0-0

Clark released his mother and put his hands on her shoulders. "You okay, mom?"

The smile that touched the corners of her mouth was more of a grimace than anything else, but she seemed to be mostly recovered. "I'll be fine." Her blue eyes became worried. "What about you? Are you sure that you're alright?"

"I'm great." Truthfully, he still felt a little nauseated, but it was swiftly receding. He saw his mother's eyebrow travel up her forehead skeptically. "It's been a long day," he admitted. Withdrawing his hands he shoved them into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. The memory of drowning in liquid fire was not one that he would easily forget, even after completely recovering.

There were other things to remember too. Lex pulling him out of the tank. His mother almost carrying him into the house and up the stairs. The memories that the procedure had brought to light out of the shadows of a distant past…

Clark froze.

The memories.

His mother's name. His birth mother. She had loved him. Worried for him. Sent him away to save him.

And he had forgotten her.

Swallowing hard, Clark dragged a hand through his still-damp hair. His mother looked up into his face, concerned.

"Clark? What is it?"

"The procedure…" what could he tell her? "I…I have to be alone for a while."

Before she could say anything, he pushed past her and fled to his haven in the barn. He needed time and space to process what he had learned. Hopefully, his mother would understand that.

0-0-0-0

Night had fallen. The moon was shining brightly outside the window of Clark's loft, but he wasn't in a mood to appreciate the heavenly bodies for once. The dark-haired teen sat hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, head slightly bowed. He couldn't believe what he had remembered. Traumatic enough in and of itself, but to have his memories brought to light in that violent fashion… It was almost like his mind had been raped. He shuddered slightly. He wanted to forget, and he wanted to remember all at the same time.

The soft sound of footsteps surprised him. His abilities were still sluggish from his little swim in Kryptonite. Turning his head to the side, he experienced a fairly unpleasant jolt when he saw Lex standing on the stairs.

Fury boiled in his veins for an instant. Clark stood abruptly and strode towards the window, turning his back on his friend. He knew that Lex was his friend…but right now…he didn't even want to look at him.

0-0-0-0

Lex felt his heart slowly slide into his stomach as he faced the brick wall that was Clark Kent's broad back.

"I wanted to see how were you were feeling," he offered, hoping to engage the teen in conversation. He mounted the few remaining stairs, but Clark did not turn. "You looked pretty messed up." _There's the understatement of the year._ Lex still felt fear curling his toes when he remembered what Clark had looked like as he was pulled out of that tank.

"Yeah, I'll survive." The words were harsh. Cold. Snapped.

Irritation whipped through Lex's mind. He had been _worried_. Really, _really_ worried for his friend. And this was all the reply he got? Don't ask questions, Lex. Don't expect any answers to fold back the dark shadows of mystery that cloak your friend eternally. But God forbid _you_ should ever do _anything_ even vaguely approaching surreptitious.

"What were you doing at Summerholt, Clark?" The question spilled from his lips before he could stop it, but he wasn't sorry. For once, he wanted an answer. Just once.

"I was trying to save my friend from making a big mistake." Clark's answer was filled with just enough self-righteousness to irritate Lex further.

"That was your opinion," he coldly countered. He was a fully grown adult with a talent for taking care of himself. At what point had he engaged Clark as his nanny? Soft, friendship type feelings were ruthlessly suppressed as the icy, calculating business mind he possessed took over. "I told you to let it go, but you kept pursuing it." Lex paused for half a second, blue eyes dropping in temperature rapidly. "You even involved my father." The ultimate betrayal.

Clark actually turned, and the expression on his face brought Lex up short. It was sad. Sorry. "Believe me, Lex, he's the last person I would ask for help," Clark's hands flapped in a helpless manner, "but I didn't have any other options!"

Some of his resentment seeped away at the sight of Clark's remorseful face, but there was plenty left. "He _betrayed_ you, Clark." Lex glared at his friend. Clark's naiveté was somehow galling to him. How could he _possibly_ believe that Lionel Luthor was someone who could be trusted? "He stopped my sessions with Garner by offering you up as a _lab rat_." The young billionaire put special emphasis on the last two words, hoping to drive them through Clark's skull. He could see the dark-haired teen's face hardening even as he spoke. Mulish stubbornness. Convinced he was in the right and Lex was in the wrong. _Damn it all to hell, he can be dumb as a brick sometimes!_ "I've tried to keep my father away from you, but he's obsessed." Willing to do anything to get what he wanted, as always. Frustration boiled beneath his skin, coloring his words with heat. "If I'd got back those seven weeks I could've finally stopped him." He could have! He _could_ have!

"Maybe, Lex," Clark protested, "or maybe you'd make it worse." Lex bit his lip as the urge to retaliate rose strongly in him. He forced himself to keep silent as Clark continued.

"You always tell me you don't want to turn into your father and I truly believe that, but the more you two go at each other the more like him you become, and the more people get hurt!"

If Clark had picked up a dagger and plunged it into his heart, Lex doubted that it would have hurt more than those words. He couldn't even speak for a moment. Harsh, damaging words of protest and violent anger were struggling up his throat, nearly choking him as they fought to break free and snap the rapidly thinning threads of his and Clark's friendship.

It took everything in him to swallow them, and keep his voice steady. Lex took two steps forward, bringing his face within inches of Clark's.

"I will _never_ become my father." His diction was deadly. Ice frosted the words as they left his lips. He wanted to make this perfectly clear in a way that could never be mistaken. "I would never sacrifice you, or anyone I cared about to bring him down." Lex held Clark's eyes for a moment longer before turning and stalking down the stairs.

The young man cursed himself inwardly. This trip had not gone the way he intended it to. He had wanted to assure himself that Clark was alright. That his friend was not harmed by Lex's actions.

"Lex," Clark's voice stopped him halfway down the wooden steps. He looked back over his shoulder, hoping for…what? What did he hope Clark would say?

"Why does your father hate you so much?"

Whatever he had been hoping for, it wasn't that. Lex turned his face, struggling to control his expression. He didn't think that Clark asked that question to cause pain, but the teen had _no friggin idea_ what those words did. He had known the answer to that question for a large part of his life. He had killed his little brother. An accident, of course, but the pain was always intense. Lex took a deep breath and kept his tone neutral.

"Take care of yourself, Clark."

Pleased that he had managed to maintain a steady voice; pleased that his words hadn't broken on a gasp, Lex placed his hand on the rough wooden railing to continue his journey downward.

The memory came upon him so quickly. Just a few seconds, and he was suddenly swept into a world that took place years ago. Another world entirely. A world where his father did not hate him and his mother was alive…

And where Julian was happy now.

0-0-0-0

"Lex? Are you alright?"

Clark's voice brought the billionaire back to the present. Lex blinked. His soul was shaken. He wanted to tell Clark everything. For a moment, he wanted to relate the memory in full. He wanted Clark to help him bear the pain of that night when his life took a downward spiral.

The moment passed.

He pulled himself together. Clark didn't trust him enough to confide any one of the many secrets that hovered around the teenager. Why should he bare _his_ soul?

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." _A lie worthy of you, Clark. I'm not fine. I don't know if I'll ever be fine again._

Without another glance back, he continued down the stairs and out of the barn.

0-0-0-0

A new day dawned brightly. Clark still sat on his couch, almost exactly where Lex had left him last night. He had actually left, but only to get food and change clothes. He had avoided his mother; unwilling to recount the experience he had endured. He knew that eventually he would have to face her, but preferred to delay the inevitable.

A model of the solar system turned slowly on the table in front of him. Clark crossed his arms over his chest and hunched over his knees. His eyes were staring at the model, but he wasn't really seeing it. He would never know his birth mother. She had put him in a ship to save him, and he had nothing left of her.

Added to the trauma of his violently reawakened memories was the sense of loss that filled him. For some reason, he felt as though something with Lex had been torn asunder. It was too soon to really know exactly what had happened. Instinctively, he knew that whatever it was, it was gone for good. In some way that he couldn't grasp, he had _lost_…something. Some portion of the trust between himself and his friend had been pulled away. He was turning another corner in his life, and he didn't know what lay around the bend.

The soft sound of footsteps alerted him to his mother's presence as she mounted the stairs. He looked up as she approached him and reached out to flick the switch on his solar system model, turning it off. The little planets stopped their slow spinning. It was sad somehow.

Martha Kent looked down at him with worried eyes. She seemed to be debating about what to say, and when the words came, they were carefully delivered. "You barely said anything about what happened at Summerholt." It was a statement, but one with a question attached. What had they seen? What had they learned?

Clark's eyes went back to the still planets. "Don't worry, Mom. My secret's still safe." He tried to make his voice light, but it fell flat into the still air of the barn.

Martha took a breath and let it out as a sigh. Her eyebrows were still drawn together in concern. "Well, I'll be in the house," her body started to turn back to the stairs, but her head was still facing Clark, "if you wanna talk."

He heard the unasked questions in her voice. She was giving him the chance to open up, if he wished it. At the same time, she wasn't pressing. His mother would allow him to keep the secrets he had if he wished to do so. Clark felt a surge of gratitude well up in his throat, making his eyes burn with something like tears. Martha was already on the wooden steps, retreating. Now was the time, if he was ever going to tell anyone at all.

"Lara." The name came out swiftly, stopping his mother in his tracks. Martha turned back slowly, eyes questioning. Clark could see her lips starting to form words, and beat her to the punch. If he didn't spill it all out quickly, he might never say it out loud.

"is my biological mother's real name." He rose to his feet as he spoke, hands awkwardly hooking into his belt loops.

Martha's eyes widened in shock. She stepped towards her son, her face wondering. "How did you know that?"

Clark felt the beginning of a shy smile touch the very corners of his mouth. As horrible as the whole incident at Summerholt was, his memory of his mother was something that should be cherished. "When I was in the tank I saw my earliest memory." He remembered her voice, questioning her husband. "She was putting me in the ship. Her only fear was that no one would love me." His mother had loved him. Really, really loved him. She didn't wish to use him, as Jor-el did. She was concerned for his wellbeing and the care that he would receive.

Martha's eyes were sparkling with suspicious brightness. "Oh…" it was a breath of sound. She smiled sadly. "I can't imagine the agony of putting my son in a lifeboat and sending him off across the stars."

Clark could see that she was empathizing with Lara. His heart swelled. Lara would have been so relieved if she could have seen where he ended up. How lucky he was. How on earth had she gotten connected with his biological father? "Because of Jor-el, I always thought that," he paused slightly, a little ashamed of what he had thought, "that my biological parents were monsters." He couldn't have been more wrong. "But she wasn't." Guilt struck him afresh. "I just can't believe I forgot about her." To his surprise, Martha's face creased into a knowing smile.

"You didn't, Clark." She must have seen how confused he was, and quickly continued. "Your first word was Lara." Her eyes were suspiciously bright again as she chuckled. "Your father and I could never figure out what it meant. Now we know!"

Clark was dumbstruck. He hadn't forgotten her after all. A part of him, maybe a very small part, remembered the woman who had worried over her son. Looking down at his mom's face, he knew that he was extremely lucky to have been found by Martha and Jonathon Kent. He wished… "I wish she could have met you." The words just kind of spilled out of his mouth. He wanted the woman he remembered to be reassured. To know that her son was doing well, and was cared for and loved by the people whose lives he had fallen into. "To see what a great mom I have."

Martha smiled. He could almost see her heart melting at the praise from her child. "She knows, Clark. A mother's love never dies."

Clark could feel a burning in his chest. So much had happened in so little time. The stripping of his mind, the rescue, whatever had happened with Lex…

The corner was turned, and he was headed to the future on a one way express. There was no turning back. Clark could feel his blue eyes burning with unshed tears.

His mother stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly. For the second time in as many days, Clark realized that Martha Kent was a very strong woman. Physically, and mentally. She had supported his body weight yesterday, and now she supported him emotionally.

Whatever happened in life, he would always have a mother who loved him. A sad smile creased his face.

He would have two of them.

A mother's love never died, after all.

**That's all folks! PLEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSE review! I love them soooo much. :)**


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